


Light Show

by jessingaround



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessingaround/pseuds/jessingaround





	

A certain bushy-haired girl sat in a booth in the back right corner of a Muggle bar on a Friday evening. The few years since the war had been good to her. As she aged, she learned some tricks, both magical and non-magical, to tame both her curls and manage her life. Though she poured herself into her work -- which she loved -- at the Ministry, she maintained many of her friendships from Hogwarts. It was one of such friendships that convinced her to spend her evening at The Drinkery on a blind date. Luna had promised Hermione that she would enjoy herself, she just had to give the mystery man a chance. Hermione, still a skeptic, wouldn’t listen to Luna’s prophecy, but agreed to go on the date anyway. Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to believe that her friend really was a Seer, but she wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. The only reason she was even considering that Luna was indeed a Seer, or that it was a valid magical ability at all, was because she had predicted Ron and Lavender’s pregnancy. So, Luna, with some help from Blaise, her fiancé, had convinced Hermione to go on this date. Evidently, this mystery man was a friend of his. Hermione was just hoping that he would get here soon. In order to make sure she got there on time, since she didn’t actually know where she was going, she left far earlier than necessary, and now she found herself sitting in the bar half and hour before their scheduled meeting, inwardly chastising herself for being so nervous, and trying to calm herself. I am brave. I can let go. I am brave. I can surrender.

Hermione flinched when a muscular arm reached over her shoulder and set a shot on the table in front of her. Before she could turn around to see the face of the man, he stepped around and sat down across from her.

She blinked once, again, three times. There could be no way that Luna and Blaise truly believed that she and Draco Malfoy would be a good fit.

“Weird, huh?”

“Excuse me?” She shook her head slightly.

“Blaise told me that it was you. I thought it was strange too, but who am I to argue with Luna the great Seer.” Then Draco did something that Hermione had never seen before, he smiled. A real, honest, and genuine smile.

Hermione’s eyebrows scrunched together. “You honestly believe that Luna can see the future?”

“Of course!” Draco’s face went serious. “You don’t?”

“I doubt the entire premise of prophesying.” Hermione looked down her nose.

“You would.” Draco chuckled.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you grew up in the Muggle world. Combine that with your highly logical outlook and it makes sense that you would doubt the gift of prophecy.” Draco gestured with his hands as he spoke. “Even if your best friend was the subject of the most famous prophecy in all time.”His voice was smooth, a mixture of playfulness and intellect.

“Oh. Uhm.” Hermione was lost in her head. Was this really Draco Malfoy? He was being so… polite? Kind? Observant? “I suppose.” Hermione let her fingers brush against the shot glass that Draco had placed in front of her. “What is this?”

“Peppermint Schnapps.”

Hermione puckered her lips and furrowed her brow. She had never tried Peppermint Schnapps. She lifted the small glass to her nose and smelled the liquid. “Interesting.” Quickly, she pressed the glass to her bottom lip, pushed her head back and let the liquid roll down her throat. Smacking her lips slightly, she said, “tasty.”

Draco smiled again. “Another?”

“Please.”

Draco slid out of the booth and walked to the bar. Watching him -- in his grey slacks and blue silk button up -- order more shots. Hermione decided that, though the date chosen for her was a shock, she would stick around and give it an honest try. At least Draco hadn’t insulted her yet.

When Draco returned he carried four shots, two in each hand. He set them down on the table, smiling again, and turned around to go back to the bar. Hermione crinkled her brow, wondering how much Draco planned on drinking. When he returned again, however, he didn’t bring with him alcohol, but two glasses of water and a plate of cheese fries.

Now it was Hermione’s turn to smile.

***

It had been two hours. Two hours. They started off talking about their days, which evolved into them talking about their careers. Then they explained how they decided on those careers, which carried their conversation to Hogwarts and classes. They didn’t talk about the war. They didn’t talk about their families, or blood, or beliefs. Conversation was kept light, fun, flowing. And flow it did. Hermione hadn’t really realized it before, but Draco Malfoy was intelligent. Luna was definitely correct when she told Hermione that he would challenge her.

They had gotten there a bit early for a Friday evening so they didn’t realize it when they arrived, but the bar that Luna and Blaise had chosen for them to meet was quite popular. They had gotten so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice until Draco slid out of the booth again to get more shots that the bar was packed and the music, along with the crowd, was gradually getting louder. When Draco returned with four more shots, Hermione asked him if he danced.

“Not normally.”

Hermione’s smile fell from her face.

“But, I suppose I can make an exception.”

“No, I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with.” She shook her head as she spoke.

“I’m fine.” Draco threw back a shot. “I want to.”

Hermione threw back one of her own shots, smiling again, then adjusted her black satin top. The straps were barely strings and the shirt tended to twist around on her small frame.

Draco stood and held his hand out to Hermione. She took it, blushed slightly, and stood revealing that she was wearing dark skinny jeans and black flats.

Draco’s steely eyes scanned her body. Had Hermione not been captivated by the unique color of his irises, she would have noticed that his pupils dilated.

Hermione wanted to dance because, well, she loved dancing, but also she was afraid that they had run out of conversation that didn’t involve the war: the pain, the trauma, the after. They had done so well avoiding it, and she was afraid that talking about it would bring everything crashing down. She knew that if they kept seeing each other they would eventually have to talk about their baggage. She brought a lot into every relationship that she started, and she couldn't imagine Draco would be any different. There was too much shit that they lived through, experienced, were a part of. Then there was the past of their own relationship. They weren't strangers, even though having a real conversation, rather than hurling insults, made it feel like they were. She was afraid to deal with it, though. Normally, she would be honest. Explain that she played a massive part in the war. Explain that she was Harry Potter’s best friend. That she had seen things that no one wanted to see, experienced things no one should ever experience. He already knew that, though. She would have to say it anyway, but she wasn't ready. Not yet. Talking about all of… that… with Draco Malfoy… it would force him to have to talk about his war. The things he had to deal with, the things he had to see, do, be. Hermione wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready to hear that Draco hadn’t changed. So they danced.

***

Hermione loved being able to feel him behind her. Because of Draco’s height, and Hermione’s lack of, they slid together almost like a puzzle. The pair could dance ridiculously close without actually touching. It was almost a tease. After nearly grinding through two songs, Draco finally touched her. It wasn’t a lot. He wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed. His lips nearly brushed her ear as he spoke. “You are so fucking sexy.”

Her cheeks heated. She was unused to that kind of compliment, or really being seen. Her arms, which were resting on her head as she danced, moved to drape around his head and pull him closer. She felt a breath escape his lips in a puff.

He lowered his head and began to kiss her neck. She tilted her head, allowing him to graze more of her. This was not like her, but he felt so good. He made her feel so good.

Hermione noticed that the type of music shifted slightly. Instead of playing full songs, the DJ began mixing and synthesizing. Suddenly, the plain, dimly lit room became a room full of multicolored lights. Red. Green. Yellow. White. The flashes of colored light danced in the air.

Draco’s grasp tightened and his body straightened. “Death Eaters. Stay down.”

Hermione froze. They were in a muggle club. Voldemort had been defeated years ago. She was actually having fun. Her eyes darted around and she didn’t see anyone that even resembled a wizard, let alone a Death Eater. She rotated her body so she could see Draco’s face and recognized immediately that he wasn’t in the present.

She placed her lips over his ear and spoke, “you are safe.”

“No. They are here.” He grabbed her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “We have to get out now, you’re a Muggle born. They will kill you.” His breathing was both shallow and too fast.

Hermione squeezed his hands and pulled, knowing that regardless of their absolute safety Draco needed to get out of there. The seriousness of the situation wouldn't allow her to analyze his words deeply, but later she would realize that he hadn't called her a Mudblood, and he had been concerned for her. She pulled him out of the bar, then into a dark alley. As she held onto the wrist of a frantic Draco with one hand, she retrieved and unshrunk her wand that she had stored in her back pocket and prepared to apparate with Draco.

***

They arrived at Hermione’s flat and Draco was still upset. He darted around the living room, maneuvering his body like he was setting up wards though his wand was not in his hand. Hermione ran to the kitchen cabinet that she had dedicated to potions and returned with a vial full of green liquid.

“Hermione, I told you, stay down! They want you!” Draco was whispering, but his face was so intense and drawn that it looked like he was screaming.

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry. I, I will. I brought you water. You must drink, or you won’t be able to protect us. Please. Please, just drink.” Hermione shoved the vial into Draco’s hand. He nodded, face flushed, then downed the potion. Draco’s body fell to the floor. Hermione swallowed, then took a deep breath. She would never get used to having to do that.

She immediately flooed Luna and Blaise. Surely they knew about this.

***

Draco opened his eyes to three faces staring at him. He blinked and squinted, not used to the brightness after being unconscious for so long.

Luna was sitting in a plush chair and Hermione and Blaise had settled on the floor, while Draco was lying on a couch. Once he was able to keep his eyes open, he bounced his gaze from one to the other, trying to decipher the situation. He lifted his hand to his face and began to massage his temples. “What’s going on?”

Blaise spoke first. “You, uhm… had an episode.”

“Notfunny,” Draco’s words slurred.

“I wish I were kidding.” Blaise looked at his best friend with soft eyes. He truly cared for his blond companion.

Hermione stood from her place on the floor in the middle of the room, and walked towards Draco. She settled on her knees in front of him, and took his hands. “I think it was the lights.” She bit her bottom lip. “All of the colors, the red and green, it looked a lot like war.” She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, Draco looked too mortified. She wouldn’t leave him alone in this.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and began working to sit up. Once Draco had steadied himself he looked directly at Hermione. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Hermione described the scene, Draco’s reaction, her response, and the potion she manipulated him into taking.

Draco brought his hands to his face and massaged then covered it. “I truly apologize. This hasn’t happened for months. If I had known… I, I would have never put you in danger like that.”

“Draco Malfoy!” Hermione emphasized every syllable.

He straightened his body.

“You are not to blame. If anyone--” Hermione looked at Blaise and Luna, “--you should be upset with them, they were aware of your PTSD as well as the light show and still put you in a situation in which you were likely to be triggered.”

He stared at the bottom button of his shirt, sliding it through its hole over and over again. “How did you know what to do?”

“My best friend is Harry Potter. I was personally held captive and tortured. If you think I’m unfamiliar with PTSD and war trauma, you’re not as intelligent as I thought you were.” She put he hand over his, forcing him to cease his fidgeting.

“So, you aren’t mad, or afraid?”

“Harry’s done far worse,” she responded matter of factly.

Draco leaned forward, preparing to stand. “I suppose I should go home.”

“You don't have to, but I understand if you want to be somewhere familiar.”

“I'm really okay.” Draco stood stiffly, carefully moving around her kneeling form. “But our date is clearly over now, and I should get out of your hair.” Draco bit his lower lip, glancing at Blaise and Luna who were sitting silently, then turned back to Hermione. “Th-thanks for, uh, everything.” Draco took three long steps and stopped immediately in front of the floo, took a handful of floo powder, stepped inside and called out the address to his flat. When he was gone, Hermione turned to look at the couple in her living room with wide eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Luna shook her head. “You couldn't really do anything right in this situation.”

Blaise crinkled his brow. “The thing is…” He clasped his hands in his lap. “Draco’s embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Hermione paced the space in front of her couch.

“Yeah… he…” Blaise ran his hand across his neck and shoulder giving a massaging squeeze. “Draco has changed a lot.”

“Right.” Hermione stopped her movement and looked to Luna to speak directly to the other witch. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“What do you think you should do?” Luna’s lips pulled into a barely smile.

Hermione sat in the place previously occupied by Draco, rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her head in her hands. “I want to floo after him and talk to him about this. I want to explain that even though I don't hallucinate, I still struggle. You know I still can't even walk into a wooded area, and I just recently began sleeping without my wand in my hand.” She pushed herself up to sit straight. “But what if he doesn't care? Or I make it worse? I never thought I would say this, but I actually really like him.”

Luna nodded. “Gryffindor courage.”

Hermione glanced at Blaise to see that he was smirking at her.

“Right.” She stood. “ I am brave. I can let go. I am brave. I can surrender. She walked to the floo, took a handful of floo powder, and stepped inside reciting the address she remembered Draco said.

As Hermione disappeared into the floo system, Blaise and Luna stared at each other. Luna pulled her lips into a smirk worthy of a Slytherin. “Told you.” Blaise smiled and shook his head.

Seconds later, Hermione was standing in Draco’s sitting room, unsure what to do or say next. Hermione took in her surroundings. Draco had a spacious flat, that had minimal furnishings. It didn't look like he didn't care though; instead, it appeared that every item was carefully considered. The floor was dark wood, and the walls were painted a matte navy. He had a brown leather sofa and matching chair. In between the seating was a metal and glass table, atop of which sat a quill and leather bound book. When Draco appeared in a doorway, presumably one that led to his bedroom, he was bare chested with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His hair was a shade darker than usual and water dripped from it. He must have heard the floo and cut his shower short. Hermione threw her hands over her eyes.

“Oh gods. I am sorry - so, so sorry.” Hermione turned around and began reaching blindly for floo powder. Hermione’s eyes flew open as she heard a crash. Floo powder and shards of glass covered the floor and Hermione’s feet. “Fuck.” She fell to her knees and began trying to contain the mess. “I’m so sorry. I’ll absolutely replace this.”

Draco blinked, disappeared from the doorway and returned moments later wearing a pair of black slacks and carrying his wand. He muttered some words and flicked his wand. Hermione stared as Draco’s magic gathered the floo powder and reassembled the glass container. She stood and turned around to face Draco, revealing her red face and chest. “I always forget about that spell.”

Draco didn’t respond verbally, he just stood staring.

“I, I came because… well...” Her tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip and she pulled it into her mouth with her teeth. “I’m not exactly sure why I came. I just… couldn’t let you leave like that.”

“Why not?” Draco walked until he was an arms length away from her.

“Well, what you said before you left.” Hermione started to run her hands through her hair but caught herself. The nervous habit only made her curls frizzy and unmanageable. “It was unfounded. You, I, I didn't…” Hermione huffed. “This is too difficult. I don't know why I'm here. It felt like I needed to be.” The began pacing the length of the room. “I know it's crazy, but I really had fun tonight, all things considered. If you didn't, I understand, but I thought you did. Maybe you are just good at pretending, I don't know.” Mindlessly, Hermione’s hand went to her hair and she twirled and pulled on her curls. “Talking about the war is hard. Talking about baggage is hard. It's scary. The number of relationships that have imploded after I told them about my involvement and what it did to me… it's embarrassing. But it's a part of me.” Hermione seemed to forget that she was pacing in Draco’s loft and talking not to herself, but to him. “I wish I could go for a walk in the woods, or camp, or sleep without having nightmares, or make tea with a whistling kettle, but I can’t. I can't. I'm not there yet. I may never be. Sure, I've made progress, but there will always be scars: physical and emotional.”

Draco interjected, “physical?”

Hermione was startled out of her rant. She shook her head slightly. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that war isn't clean.”

Draco shook his head. Silence floated between them. “I'm sorry I left the way I did.”

Hermione stepped toward him. “No, I get it. You were forced into this conversation.” She looked at him, taking note of the creases around his eyes. “But, now we’re here. Forced into it or not.”

“What do we do now?” Draco sighed, then walked to the leather chair and gracefully sat, motioning for Hermione to have a seat as well.

“We surrender.” Hermione hadn't intended on speaking the words aloud, they escaped from her lips in a mutter.

“Surrender?” Draco’s face tightened.

Hermione’s red shade returned. “I didn't mean to say that… it's something my Mind Healer says.” She looked away, unable, or unwilling, to make eye contact as she admitted such.

“Ah.” Draco twisted in his seat.

Hermione stood. She was not going to make this more uncomfortable. It was time for her to leave. They tried. She tried. But she had never been a part of a relationship that survived this conversation. She would not be made a fool believing that this time could be any different. Hermione straightened her body, forcing herself to project strength, and walked to the floo. She reached for the powder, but a hand caught her wrist. Draco pulled her to face him, not releasing her arm.

“I'm not letting you leave like this. I… I enjoyed tonight too.” Draco maintained eye contact. “Explain what this surrender thing means.”

Hermione studied her shoes. “It may come to a shock to you, but I'm a bit of a control freak.”

Draco scoffed.

“It, it got worse after the war. There were so many things during that time that I couldn't control… I, I got really bad after. I'm learning. I'm trying. I know rationally that there are a lot of factors in life beyond my control. I am constantly working to surrender to… well, to life.”

Draco placed his fingertips on Hermione's chin and gently pushed her head up, forcing her to look at him. “You still control half of this relationship, Hermione.”

“Yes, but that has never mattered before. If you don't want this, me, us, it won't matter what I want.”

His grey eyes were penetrating. “What do you want?”

He waited.

“A second date,” she finally admitted.

His lips curled. “As long as there aren’t any light shows.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Dinner, tomorrow night.” Draco pulled Hermione into a hug, and she allowed herself to surrender.


End file.
